Linger
by SamanthaRose
Summary: Memories of their first meeting still haunt her dreams... in the lingering terror the aftermath of the infection breeds, Zoey begins to discover just how much has changed.
1. Chapter 1

The whispers, mutters and groans of the infected kept her awake, and she was thankful for it. She didn't even want to think about what would happen if she fell asleep now, what the sound of her breathing would bring upon her while she was unaware, and she wasn't yet ready to die.

Huddling a little closer into the corner, protected by the boxes she had taken from the shelf beside her, she pulled her hood up over her head in an attempt to muffle the sounds coming from beyond her cardboard barrier. Her soft brown hair was matted from the rain, matted with blood that had sprayed on her while she was running here… the infected had been distracted by another unfortunate former Survivor that had picked a fight with the wrong person. Whatever it was, it had exploded upon impact and covered the man with a foul smelling liquid. The stuff attracted the infected like flies to dog-shit, and she had fled while they beat the man to death. There was no choice, she told herself…

She had no weapons, no way to defend herself against them. All she could do was run, and when she found this place, she had hunkered down and built herself a place to hide until it was safe to go out again. She was hungry, but the only thing she had to eat would make too much noise and she didn't want to risk it. The more she thought about it, the more the granola bar was burning a hole in her pocket.

Rubbing her eyes and sitting up straight again, she strained to hear through the rain outside. For a moment, she thought she had heard other voices… human voices. Uninfected voices. It might have just been lack of food and sleep that were making her hallucinate, it might have been her subconscious making her hear things to comfort her or offer her a speck of hope in the darkness. Whatever it was, she tried hard to hear more.

There was silence but for the rain and the infected shambling aimlessly through the warehouse, and she had almost given up hope…

When she heard a completely different noise. Muffled and distant, but unmistakeable, gunfire peppered the silence, and once again she heard a human voice shout. Sitting up very straight now, eyes wide, she could feel her heart thundering so hard it threatened to escape her chest, and her face lit up in a smile she couldn't stop.

Someone was coming!

Until they showed up, though, she had to stay put. If she got too eager and excited, she would attract the attention of the infected in the warehouse, and she still had no way to defend herself. Jumping the gun would mean death…

And she wasn't yet ready to die.

Listening hard, her breath heavy in her chest and her head feeling light from her pounding heart and growling stomach, she heard the gunfire become less muffled and closer, the voices beginning to become more distinct. There were at least two of them, both male, and one of them was shouting about all the horrible things he was going to do to the infected as they charged through the rain towards the warehouse she hid in.

The gunfire became louder than thunder as footsteps pounded into the warehouse, and the smell of blood became fresh with the sound of bodies hitting the floor heavily. She stood very slowly, not wanting to attract the attention of the infected that were still alive, but she saw as soon as she was on her feet that they had all run towards the sound of squealing and screaming uttered from their infected brethren, leaving her effectively alone in her little corner. She pushed the boxes away and stood just outside them with her hands clenched into fists at her sides, waiting until the sound of gunfire stopped with her eyes closed tightly.

"Check that corner for supplies. And for any others that might still be standing." A voice muttered, angry and sounding like it might belong to a younger male. There was a grunt from the second, and she opened her eyes to see when he came around the corner. She held up her hands to show they were empty, but her mouth was dry and she wasn't sure she could speak. If she didn't say something… there was a chance he would kill her on sight.

Indeed, when he came around the corner with his gun up, his eyes widened and he shouted over his shoulder to the other a single word.

"Hunter!"

His finger almost squeezed the trigger before she finally found her voice, little more than a croak from how little she had been using it as of late.

"W-wait!"

He paused, taking his finger from the trigger but not lowering the gun, glancing over his shoulder when the other male came hurrying over.

"Dumbass." The shorter of the males said, scowling up at the taller with the gun. "How many fucking hunters wear fucking pink hoodies?"

The taller male grunted again and lowered his gun, watching the shorter move towards her and rubbing his goatee thoughtfully. In the flickering light of their flashlights and the flashes of lighting from outside, she could see his tattooed arms and shaved hair, his tired face showing signs of having seen far too much in far too short a time.

"P-please… don't leave without me. I-I've been hiding, b-but…" She stopped talking when the shorter male held up a hand and scowled, looking towards the door. She glanced in the same direction, her pleading face turning back to the taller of the two.

"There's another horde coming, we've gotta move." The shorter male said, looking at her for a moment before moving away. He leaned up to speak quietly to the taller man, the conversation lost in the rain and the sound of oncoming infected, and the taller man's lip curled in disgust. He shook his head, but the shorter male hissed something at him and his expression changed. He turned his face back to look at her, something hard and guarded in his face as he approached her.

They stood facing one another for a long moment, then he sighed and held his hand out.

"Francis." It was simple, rough and straightforward.

Her trembling fingers crept out to take his hand, and he shook firmly as she spoke loud enough for his ears only.

"Z-zoey…"

"Zoey, you ever fired a gun?" He eyed her up and down, knowing full well the answer when he did. Her jacket had been new when she put it on, and her jeans were filthy but still obviously designer. Her battered shoes were weathering well considering they had never been designed for the sort of activities she had been partaking of lately, and her backpack was name brand and expensive.

"No… but I'm sure I'll get lots of practice in if you have one I can use." Zoey answered truthfully, Francis' mouth turning up slightly in a smile.

"Was hoping you'd say that." He pulled a pistol from his belt and held it out to her, his smile twisting ever so slightly as he watched her hold it without a clue of what to do with it. "My compadre over there wants to leave you here. He thinks you'll be a burden to us."

She stared at him in disbelief, finding her voice a few seconds later… A few seconds longer than she would have liked.

"Is this just to defend myself when you two leave?"

"No." Francis swung his shotgun up to rest against his shoulder, tilting his head to the side and regarding her. "You're comin' with us whether he or you like it or not. I'm not leavin' you here to die."

"The more the merrier?" She tried for a smile, but it must have come across more as a grimace, judging by the look on his face.

"The more the merrier. Welcome aboard, Zoey."

Both of them startled and looked in the direction the shorter male had disappeared in, eyes widening when they saw the swarms of infected converging on the parked car that was blaring a high pitched car alarm. The man crouched on the hood of it, shooting as many as he could as they came from all directions didn't even stand a chance…

And when they were done with him, all of them turned at once and rushed towards Zoey and Francis, howling and snarling. Francis looked down at Zoey, who quivered in terror, and grinned at her wickedly.

"Well… I had hoped to break you in a little bit slower, but what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, right? Right?!" He laughed as he opened fire, the car alarm continuing to shriek in the background…

…

…

…

Zoey found herself sitting up with a gasp, one hand moving to clutch at her chest in a panic, tears streaming down her cheeks. The shrieking sound of the car alarm still echoed in her ears, and it took her a long moment to realize that it wasn't a product of her dream. Outside, there was shouting and the sound of feet running down the sidewalk, the car alarm continuing to bawl even as the owner attempted to turn it off.

She reached up and put her hands over her ears, closing her eyes tightly and letting out a low moan of despair. If only someone would make it stop…

Her blankets were all twisted and her body was covered in cold sweat, the lingering adrenaline of the dream still coursing through her veins. She fumbled for the glass of water on her bedside table, nearly spilling it when the bedroom door opened to reveal two figures waiting on the other side.

"Zoey, sweetheart!" Her mother called quietly, moving to embrace her in a gentle, mothering manner and looking her over in concern. "What's the matter?"

"Just a dream." Zoer murmured back, returning the embrace maybe a little too tightly. It was just a dream, just a dream, she told herself. A terrible nightmare, a flashback to a very terrible first meeting with a man she now cared for more than words could say. "I was dreaming about the day I met Francis."

"It made you react like that?" Her father demanded, crouching down beside the bed with a frown. "HE made you react like that? Gods, you were screaming like a w-…"He stopped midsentence at a sharp look from his wife, his lips closing tightly when he realized what he had been about to say.

"Like a banshee." Zoey's mother continued, and Zoey looked back and forth between them before sighing and letting her head hang. "You were screaming like a banshee."

"I told you about when we met. How he saved my life…" Zoey murmured, looking between them.

"How he shoved a gun in your hands and forced you to fend for yourself, you mean? How you two 'got to know each other' in one of those safe rooms? Is that what you're trying to say?" Her father spoke softly, but with terrible emotion in his voice.

"Honey, please." Zoey's mother said quietly, looking down at her daughter. "Zoey, the infection is gone. We found the cure! There's nothing to be afraid of anymore."

"It doesn't change the fact that the whole thing happened, mom. It doesn't change what I saw, what I had to do… It doesn't take away the memories of the blood and the screaming." Zoey shuddered and closed her eyes, shaking her head. She hugged her mother again, muffling the cries and the tears that were still falling in her shoulder…

She didn't say it out loud, but at times like these, she wished it was someone else holding her, and someone else's shoulder she was crying on. In the lingering emotions of the dream, she could still smell him, could still hear the creak of the leather vest he wore, she could still feel his rough hands, could still feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as they clung to one another in the safe room after running for their lives.

Times like this, she wished Francis was still there to hold her instead…


	2. Chapter 2

School was dull, work was even more so, but the grind took her mind off of the dream and the memories that persisted to surface. Zoey didn't talk much to her co-workers that day, and it didn't take long for one of them to corner her and talk to her about it.

"You're quiet." Stewart was around the same age as her, and was assistant manager here at the video store. It wasn't surprising he was the one chosen to talk to her about what might be a sensitive subject. "Everything alright?"

"I'm fine." She answered, his eyebrow arching and a skeptical look crossing his face. "Seriously. I just didn't sleep much last night."

"Heard there was a break in on your street. Some guy's car got trashed." Stewart reached for some of the movie returns and started helping her process them, a gentle smile on his face. "I can imagine there was a lot of sirens and stuff."

"And stuff." She echoed, managing a tolerant smile in return. When she didn't offer any further conversation, he retreated, though he kept trying the rest of the night to talk to her. She appreciated his concern, but part of her wanted to just tell him it was none of his business and to just leave her alone. Zoey didn't know why, but the harder her tried, the closer to tears she came.

When she finally returned home, she retreated to her room and put on some headphones, intending to finish an essay for tomorrow's morning class and wind down for the day, but a knock on her bedroom door told her that her parents had other plans.

"Hey sweetie…" Her mother murmured as she entered the room, a smile on her face. "How was work?"

Zoey looked up at her and shrugged, pulling the headphones off.

"Work was work. School was school. Same as always." She murmured, and her mother nodded with a thoughtful noise, resting against the edge of Zoey's computer desk. "How was your day?"

"Uneventful for the most part. As you said, work was work. I saved a plate of dinner for you, if you're interested. You can go ahead and eat up here if you're still keen on avoiding us." There was a playful note in her mothers voice that made Zoey flush with guilt, and she shook her head, ponytail whipping the sides of it.

"I'm not avoiding you!" She protested, and her mother smirked. "Okay, I might be avoiding you a little, but it's mostly just Dad. His comment last night…"

"I know, hun. It's hard. He doesn't know what you went through, half of what you told us was so unbelievable. I wish you could leave it all behind you and forget it ever happened, because I hate seeing you suffer so much because of it. I hate how it's changed you… he's worried you're going to do something rash because of it." She reached out and ran her fingers through the hair that had come loose around Zoey's face. "He's worried you're going to ride off into the sunset with some violent, dirty man and we'll never see you again."

"Francis isn't violent. And I'm pretty sure he's not dirty now, either. Maybe when you first met him, but that was different." She hadn't meant to sound so defensive, and her mother offered her another gentle smile in response, making her grimace. "I'm sorry… I wish you knew him better, I wish Dad hadn't chased him off. For the love of the gods, I'm eighteen, and old enough to make my own decisions, aren't I?"

"I know that very well. I just wish your father would realize you're not a little girl anymore." Her mother leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, and Zoey sighed, closing her eyes. "Give it a little more time."

When her mother stood, Zoey smiled fondly at her, blinking in surprise when her mother pulled a letter from her pocket.

"This came for you today… I made sure to get the mail before your father came home from work, and I didn't tell him. I'm sure he wouldn't really understand." She handed the letter to Zoey, who blinked again before looking down at it.

There was neat handwriting on the front, addressed to her, and the return address wasn't far from where she lived. Tearing the letter open eagerly, she didn't even register that her mother had left the room before beginning to read it, her heart pounding in her chest.

The letter was from Louis!! He had moved into a new apartment and wanted her to go and see him for a housewarming party, something that made Zoey's heart swell. Happiness, eagerness, so many other things rushed through her all at once, including the paralyzing fear that her father wouldn't ever let her go in case Francis would be there as well.

How was she going to ask him? What was she going to tell him?

Clutching the letter to her chest, Zoey closed her eyes tightly. She vowed to think of something…

She wasn't going to miss this for the world.

…

…

…

Francis looked over his shoulder at the advancing zombie horde, muttering something about vampires before pulling a bottle off his belt and chucking it at the swarm, a grunt escaping him from the effort. He then turned and seized Zoey's arm in his hand, taking off at a dead run and dragging her along with him whether she liked it or not.

She panted for breath, fighting the urge to look over her shoulder at the zombies rushing through the curtain of fire that sprang up from the bottle Francis had thrown. They rushed down some stairs and into the crumbled remains of a building, one gloved hand firmly gripping her arm as though he half expected her to try and escape, and it wasn't until he found a room with a red steel door that he released her.

Zoey stumbled into the room and collapsed onto her knees, hearing Francis shut the heavy door behind him and bar it, watching him offer the zombies that crowded one another for a chance to attack the survivors the finger before turning to look at her.

"You okay, kid?" He asked, and she nodded weakly, declining his offered helping hand and opting to remain on her knees on the floor.

She was exhausted, she was hungry, and she had just seen a man beaten to death by the infected. They had both been chased by creatures that even braved fire just for a chance at their targets…

To distract herself, she fumbled the granola bar out of her pocket and ripped the wrapper off of it, beginning to eat it perhaps a little too quickly. Francis watched her for a moment, then looked away, shifting from one foot to the other. A thought occurred to her a few seconds later, and she paused in her ravenous devouring.

Francis looked down in surprise when she took his hand ever so gently in her own, pressing what was left of the granola bar into it. Their eyes met, but she quickly looked away with flushed cheeks, hugging her knees to her chest and looking towards the door. Francis was still for a moment, then he muttered a soft thanks in return, his own cheeks beginning to color.

…

…

…

Zoey's eyes blinked open to sunlight streaming through her window, the alarm clock on her bedside table playing an altogether too cheerful song, and she slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes. With one hand, she reached over and tapped the alarm clock off, dragging the other through her sleep tousled brown hair.

She had to admit, this dream was a better one than the one she had the night before, but there was still a lingering feeling of dread deep down inside as she thought of what she had to do.

Come up with a good excuse, an alibi for her reunion with the three other survivors she fought side by side with during the infection. Her father would never let her go if she told him the truth, and lying to him just made her feel awful.

There was no way, though, she was going to NOT go. One way or another, she would make it to this housewarming party.

Slipping out from under the covers, she padded across the floor to the bathroom in her underwear and a tank top, typical bed time attire for her at this time of year. She looked in the mirror and grimaced, immediately making the decision to have a shower. It was a good way to start the day and it gave her plenty of time to think.

Unfortunately, she still had no clue what she was going to say when she came out of the shower, and headed down to breakfast after getting dressed in a much more sombre mood than she would have liked. Her mother was sitting and watching TV with her morning coffee in hand, and offered her a pleasant morning greeting, whereas her father was sitting at the table with his morning paper and offered her only a soft noise in way of reply to the greeting she offered him.

Getting herself some breakfast, Zoey ate in silence, staring at the paper her father held in front of his face while her brain worked hard, searching for an option. Anything, anything at all…

"Zoey hun, I was wondering if you wanted a date for that thing tonight." Her mother suddenly said from the living room, and Zoey sat up very straight in her chair. Her father didn't surface from behind his paper, and Zoey blinked a few times before smiling and nodding in her mothers direction. "Good. I needed an excuse to go out anyway. Your father is working late, after all."

"That's right." Zoey's father muttered from behind his paper, and both the women exchanged meaningful glances before Zoey returned to her breakfast.

After finishing, she hurried out the door to go to her morning class in much better spirits, the anticipation of the reunion making it very hard to feel otherwise.


	3. Chapter 3

Jake watched Francis as he wandered around his apartment, one eyebrow raised at the man's rather curious behavior. He was muttering to himself about people he never really spoke about since returning as a survivor of the infection, tossing clothes about as if looking for something and gathering as much change as he could find lying around the house, twitching in agitation.

Several times, his taller room mate would stop in front of a mirror and make sure he looked alright, settling at last on a pair of black jeans and a plain black t-shirt and grunting after he had put them on.

"Alright." Francis muttered, turning to look at Jake. "I'm goin' out."

"Out where? What the hell is with you, man?" Jake asked, eyebrow still raised.

"To a housewarming party." Francis muttered this so softly that Jake almost missed it, and he had to mull it over for a moment before deciding he had indeed heard right and wondering if perhaps his room mate had gone insane.

"That's… um…" Jake rubbed the back of his head and twitched his eyebrow again, smirking. "That's great man. Why?"

"Cause I was invited. What other reason do I need?" Francis sighed shortly and ran one gloveless hand over his shaved hair.

"Okay. You gonna be home late? I might bring a girl back later." Jake called as Francis headed towards the door, the taller male scowling over at him and shrugging.

"Maybe. I dunno." He replied vaguely, and Jake blinked a few times, watching Francis' back retreat out the door.

Something told him there was more to the whole story of the other survivors Francis ran with than the man had made clear…

…

…

…

Outside in the night air, Francis felt much less stifled, breathing in a deep lungful before letting it out as a deep sigh. He shoved his hands into his pockets and headed down the street towards the address that Louis had mailed him, a good walk away from the apartment where he lived. He decided to leave the bike at home tonight, because if there was booze he would be drinking it and could easily call a cab home with the money he had scrounged up.

Walking helped calm his nerves, anyway. It had been some time since he had last seen the others, and of course it was the anticipation of seeing Zoey again that had him in so many knots. He walked to keep from pacing, he kept his eyes on the sidewalk to avoid eye contact with any of the people walking the busy street with him, and he hummed softly to himself to keep from muttering nonsense.

Nothing had ever had him in such a state before. Sure, it had hurt when Zoey's father had chased him off their property after a screaming match with his own daughter, and it had hurt to have to say goodbye to her, but at that time he didn't know he cared so much. It wasn't until the anticipation of seeing her again that he realized how much she meant to him.

He had never cared about first impressions before, never cared about how he looked or what he said, but if there was any chance she was going to be there, she would have one or both of her parents with her and he was going to try his hardest to seem…

Not like himself. Now that he thought about it, it was a stupid plan but it was all he had, and he was going to stick with it.

Time passed quickly as he walked, and he found it too much less time than he had anticipated to get to Louis' new building, pausing in front of it to fish the paper from his pocket that had instructions on it on how to get inside. After he punched the code in, the man's familiar voice greeted him and a buzzer indicated that the door was open.

"I hate elevators." Francis muttered as he climbed into the one that led up to the floor Louis lived on, suppressing a shudder as he huddled into a corner for the ride. Elevators still gave him bad memories of the fight to get out of the city, and their experiences with elevators on the way to Mercy Hospital were one of the worst things that happened to them out there.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he sighed thankfully when the elevator stopped, stepping out the doors as soon as they opened and striding up the hallway while he looked at room numbers. It had taken him a long time to get used to not carrying a weapon, and longer after that not to reach instinctively for one everytime he opened a door or stepped out of his building and into the street. Large crowds bothered him…

He hated crowds. He hated people. He hated the noise and the smell and the crowding. He hated the rain, he hated the traffic, he hated…

Everything. Now that everything was back to normal, it all seemed strange and unnatural. Now that everything was back to normal, he returned to his dreary life without anything to hope for or look forward to. Just the same thing day in, day out, the same company and the same scenery.

His feet had stopped carrying him up the hallway, and he found himself crushing the paper he held in one shaking fist, his teeth grit so hard he could hear his jaw creaking. Taking a moment to calm himself, he forced deep breaths in and out of his lungs, swallowing a few times before walking the last few feet to Louis' door.

…

…

…

Louis had been more than pleased when Zoey was able to join them, and her mother was more than welcome as well in the small apartment that housed more than its fair share of people this evening. The chatter was almost comforting, and while the group consisted mostly of family, it was his friends he was looking more forward to seeing. Bill had been the first to arrive, and Zoey shortly after, all three of them waiting as patiently as they could for Francis.

It never crossed Louis' mind to wonder if Francis was even going to show up. He knew the man well enough, or assumed he did, to know that Francis wouldn't miss this for the world. A chance to see old friends, tell exciting stories and drink free booze… it was right up Francis' alley.

Zoey's mother, Cheryl, chatted amiably with Bill nearby, the topic of conversation almost predictably about the absent biker, and from the way Bill was speaking and the relaxed look on Cheryl's face, Louis figured this evening was going to turn out pretty well once Francis actually did show.

The knock on his door that came moments after this observation was heavy, and Zoey leapt from her place on his couch to join him as he hurried to answer, a breathless excitement clinging to the young woman that made Louis smile.

When the door opened to reveal the towering form of Francis, Louis found that Zoey had somehow managed to make her way behind him and was hanging back as the two men greeted one another. A handshake and a hug later, Louis stepped back so that Zoey and Francis were facing each other, politely offering to grab Francis a drink and excusing himself.

He moved back into the living room, exchanging a glance with Bill and a smile with Cheryl, the three of them standing and watching unabashedly the much waited for reunion.

…

…

…

The blushing, smiling face that gazed up at him from beneath soft brown bangs was so different from the filthy exhausted one he remembered seeing so often back then. The dress was different from the jeans and the jacket, and the absence of tears on her cheeks was a change for the better.

Francis stood for a moment, completely overwhelmed, and neither of them spoke as they stared at each other.

At that moment, no words were needed. No words at all.

She smelled sweet, like flowers or candy or something, the scent comforting as she wrapped her arms around his middle in a firm, eager embrace, and Francis let his eyes close as he wrapped his arms around her in return. She was warm and soft, just like he remembered, his throat growing thick and his eyes beginning to sting.

"Missed you." Her voice was muffled as she rubbed her face against his chest, and he let out a soft chuckle, dragging his rough fingers through her soft hair.

"Missed you too." He murmured back, the words seeming unnecessary and clumsy, awkward. He turned his eyes to the others in the apartment, all politely ignoring their conversation and embrace except for Bill and Louis. The two were standing with a woman Zoey strongly resembled, a woman Francis remembered seeing the night they had returned to their families, their lives.

Zoey's mother was smiling at him in a fond manner, and he felt his cheeks grow hot as she offered him a gentle nod, turning her eyes away from the two of them and striking up a conversation with Louis. Bill continued to gaze at them for a long moment, then he smirked and turned away himself, going to find another drink.

Francis looked back down at Zoey, seeing that she was now gazing up at him with a child like look of glee on her face, her eyes gleaming. He grinned at her, then pulled his arms away, taking her hand in his and leading her into the crowded room to join their friends.


	4. Chapter 4

Francis was familiar with the blazing look in Zoey's eyes as they stood together on the balcony. He had seen it many times before, many times in the past, on their travels, but the things a look like that promised were not appropriate in present company.

Not to mention, her father would murder him in her sleep. He had been around long enough to know fathers KNEW things without being told, and he didn't particularly feel like dying tonight or anytime soon, so he was going to keep his hands and his lips to himself no matter how fiery her gaze got.

Small talk seemed redundant… what did they have to talk about? When had they ever done much talking? Francis rubbed the back of his head and grunted softly, turning his gaze away.

"What?" Zoey demanded with a giggle. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

"More than happy, doll." He smiled down at her and she tilted her head to the side. He glanced over his shoulder, Zoey following his gaze with a muffled snort.

"She brought me here despite my dad protesting. I wasn't exactly shy about telling them the truth about us, Francis, she knows what we have between us."

"Doesn't change the fact that she's your mom and I'm the guy your dad would turn my own damn shotgun on if I touched you." Francis held up his hand as she began trying to protest. "And don't say what he doesn't know won't hurt him because he'll know. They always know."

"You have experience with this, then?" Zoey raised an eyebrow, turning away from him and leaning against the railing. She gazed down at the city below, bustling and noisy and lit up brightly. It was a far cry from what they had suffered through, wasn't it?

Francis regarded her for a long time in silence, then turned and leaned against the railing himself with a gentle sigh, rubbing the back of his head again.

"I… wish I could take you away from him. From the life you're living. I wish I could put you on the back of my bike and drive away from all of this. But I got nowhere to go and nowhere to take you. I got a dingy apartment and no job, and you deserve better than that." He finally said, Zoey glancing over at him with a frown before looking back at the city below.

"Who says that's a bad thing? Who says I don't want that?" Zoey said heatedly in return, finally turning to look at him. "God, I live in a prison, Francis!"

"You live in a nice house. I've been to prison, you definitely don't live there." Francis muttered, Zoey rolling her eyes.

"You know what I mean! I don't have any FREEDOM there. My dad is super controlling, even more so than he was before this whole zombie bullshit thing! My mom is understanding, but in her eyes I'm still a little girl for the most part! I wanna be back out with you guys, back out on my own, scraping a living off of nothing and watching your back and… and…" Zoey seemed to run out of steam, huffing a breath out before turning her back and crossing her arms beneath her breasts.

Francis gazed at her with a lost expression, scratching at his beard slightly before looking down at the ground and half closing his eyes.

He knew exactly what she meant, even if she hadn't been able to finish saying it. He knew exactly what it was she missed.

…

…

…

Francis dragged Zoey in through the door, tossing her rather unceremoniously into the room while he locked and barricaded the door to the safe room. He didn't pause in his work until he was sure they would be safe for the night, finally turning to the rather hysterical young girl and approaching her.

She let out an anguished cry and beat at his chest with both hands when he caught her arms, hushing her softly and giving her a firm shake.

"Stop it! You're fine, alright?! You're hardly even bleeding and you're still on your feet. C'mon! If you break now, you'll never make it!" He growled, the girl opening her blue eyes to gaze up at him in horror. Francis grimaced, then released her arms, wrapping his own around her in a firm embrace. She seemed so incredibly tiny, cradled against his chest while she sobbed like a child, fingers clutching at him and face pressing into his soiled leather vest.

She had been pounced by one of the Witches they had come across, the female infected falling prey to Francis' shotgun before the biker had managed to drag the girl to her feet and into the nearby safe room before anymore damage could be inflicted.

It was understandable that she was hysterical… Those Witches were nasty pieces of work, but she wasn't even hurt. She was just startled…

Francis had to get Zoey to come to her senses before he lost her. He needed her out there as much as she needed him, and he was starting to like her. He would hate to see something horrible happen to her just because she couldn't pull it together.

Sinking down against the wall with the girl cradled in his lap, Francis pressed his lips to her hair and screwed his eyes shut tight, holding her tightly to his chest still and grumbling a few words of comfort to her. He had never been good at this sort of thing, and when it came to girls like Zoey, he was particularly useless.

"I almost died." Zoey suddenly gasped, pulling away to look at him with wide eyes. "Oh… God… it could have KILLED ME!"

"But it didn't, Zoey. C'mon." Francis murmured, trying to pull her close again. She resisted his efforts, raising both hands to clutch at her hair. She ran fingers down her cheeks, blue eyes still wide, fingers trailing lower to touch her neck and shoulders. She ran them over her torso, then shuddered, slumping against him. "See? Still intact. Even your clothes weren't shredded, doll."

"But… I still could have… I could have died." She whispered, Francis sighing in defeat and leaning his head back. "Fuck, I'm still a virgin. I could have died out there!"

"Zoey!" Francis snapped, the girl jerking in his arms. "Snap out of it, alright? You're fine! You're not a broken record, you're not dead and you're not gonna get dead as long as I'm still alive and kicking zombie ass!"

Zoey blinked at him a few times, then let out another shuddering sigh and leaned against him again, closing her eyes. Francis rubbed her back with one hand, silent for some time as he tried to offer her comfort. Outside, infected threw themselves at the barricaded door in an attempt to break it down, but he ignored them. They couldn't get in…

For now, he and Zoey were safe.

It took her nearly an hour to come around, Francis not even able to drift off in this position for fear of her losing it on him. He stayed awake and alert, though he startled when she finally looked up at him with a much less hysterical expression on her face and in her eyes.

"Welcome back." he grumbled, voice seeming a little more hoarse from disuse than before.

Zoey didn't speak, staring at Francis for a long moment before leaning forward and pressing her lips to his in a sudden, rather awkward kiss. Francis stiffened and let out a squeak of protest, Zoey cutting it off as she put both hands on the back of his head and pulled him into her.

For the life of him, Francis couldn't remember what this sort of thing would be considered. Zoey was distraught, felt like she had barely escaped death, she wanted…

She wanted…

Affirmation of life. Was that what it was? Was that all it was?

There was a long moment of hesitation, but it was soon overcome as Francis shifted ever so slightly, tension draining from his body with the soft groan that escaped him, his lips moving against hers to take charge of the kiss and chase the awkwardness away.

She wanted to feel alive, he wasn't going to argue with that. He was going to make her feel more alive than she ever had before. He wasn't going to question anything, any part of this…

After all, in this day and age, in the middle of this hell on earth, what did they have to lose? What if they had only five minutes together before the world crashed down around their ears? What better way to go than this?

_Hey wait… I guess those are questions too_, he thought to himself, a smile touching his lips briefly. Zoey's breath grew quick, and Francis could feel her trembling when he broke the kiss to look at her, carefully searching her face.

"I'm scared." She breathed, Francis brushing a strand of wavy brown hair from her face and shaking his head.

"Nothin' to be afraid of, Zoey. I'm not gonna hurt you."

"No. I'm not afraid of this." She protested, frowning. "I'm afraid of dying, Francis. I'm afraid those things are going to kill me. I'm afraid they'll get us both, tear us apart, I'm afraid they'll take over what's left of our world. I can't… I can't think about the future, or I'll lose my mind. I don't want to wonder what's next for us out there. I don't want to care about the world outside these red doors."

"Are you asking me to help you forget?"

"… just for a little while…"

…

…

…

When Zoey and Francis moved out onto the balcony, where it was much less crowded and probably far more quiet, Cheryl's gentle smile was contagious, Louis returning it fondly.

"It's been awhile since they saw each other." Zoey's mother murmured, Louis nodding in return. "Things have changed so much since the infection."

"How do you mean?" Louis' brow knit slightly, and Cheryl let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. She passed her cup of wine from one hand to the other a few times, cleared her throat and continued, not yet raising her head.

"Humans who lived so very well off were suddenly thrust into a terrible situation, forced to fight or die under a wave of hatred and rage that may very well have been planted inside the infected by our own mistakes, or some sick will of nature or the powers that be… one thing or another. We were forced to forget about material things, money, possessions, everything of that sort. We were good enough with knowing our family members had come home alive and untainted." She looked up at Louis, who couldn't help but notice her eyes were the same shade of blue as Zoey's were.

"But your husband…" he ventured to continue, Cheryl making a soft noise and nodding again.

"He refused to let go of the way the world was. He still fusses about his money, his mansion, his cars. He still worries about saving face." As she spoke, she looked out at the balcony and her daughter. "He refuses to believe what she went through and can't see how much she's changed."

"Maybe he can see it, he just can't accept it. Give him time…" Louis put his hand on her shoulder in a reassuring gesture, his smile growing when she put her hand over his and nodded once more.

"I just hope he doesn't take too much time. I wish he could see how much Zoey needs that man in her life." She whispered.

"In our world now, we all need a little more love. There's a lot of rebuilding to be done and the wounds are just starting to close. He may not like it, but there may not be anyone else Zoey needs in her life more than Francis. And despite his appearance and general attitude, I couldn't have put my life and the life of my colleagues in more capable hands." Louis regarded Cheryl with a gentle smile, the woman letting out another soft laugh and following his gaze to the balcony.

"Are they fighting?" She asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Nah. Probably just discussing something." Louis waved his hand dismissively. "Give them some time to catch up."


	5. Chapter 5

A long kiss goodnight, a promise to see one another again, breathless goodbyes and an evening far too soon come to an end was what Zoey was left with when she and her mother headed home for the evening. The car ride was quiet, Cheryl smiling the whole time while Zoey peered out the passenger side window with a guarded look on her face.

"You look like I did at your age, when I was planning on running away from home." Cheryl murmured, Zoey looking over at her in surprise. "If you want to see him again, why don't you just tell your father you do? He can't rightly kick you out of the house, and he can't stop you from seeing Francis. He might be able to stop Francis coming over, but there are other places the two of you can meet."

"Are you sure you should be saying stuff like this? Dad would be pissed." Zoey said softly, sitting up a little straighter in her seat.

"Let him be, then." Cheryl grinned. "Zoey, after all you've been through in your short life, I feel you deserve a break from the one person who should put more faith in you and honestly know better than to behave like such a child. You deserve to be with him… with Francis."

Staring at her mother for another long moment, Zoey smiled gently and nodded, sitting back in her seat and looking out the windshield.

"What will we do about-" Zoey began, Cheryl holding up one hand and shaking her head.

"I'll deal with your father… We lied to him about where we were going tonight, so I figure I'll be upfront about what we actually did. He will appreciate the honesty, and he'll have no choice but to accept what I say as truth." Cheryl smiled. "Either that or he'll think I've lost it too."

Zoey's stomach was fluttering, her heart was pounding… she couldn't help but think of what her mother was saying implicated, and a part of her was terrified that Francis would find her overbearing, would find the whole thing too much.

What if she scared him off by asking for a relationship? What if he wasn't scared off and wanted her to move in with him right away? What if he turned out to be someone different once they WERE living together? What if-

"Don't look so scared, hun." Cheryl laughed. "I know, being in a relationship is a lot to handle, especially when you haven't really had a steady one in the past. Unless you have and you didn't tell me."

"Nah. There were boys, of course, but none of them were… none of them were really special. Just boys." Zoey's cheeks flushed and she shrugged, shrinking down in her seat a little. "Francis and I really have a connection, y'know?"

Cheryl made a soft noise and laughed under her breath. "I remember how that feels." She murmured, sighing. "It was a long time ago, and when it's real and true, that connection never really dies. It lingers… No matter what happens, it lingers."

They pulled into the driveway, seeing that the living room light was still on and Zoey's father was still awake, the excitement that had been gnawing at Zoey's stomach turning anxious and making her feel a bit sick.

"You can go up to your room if you'd like." Cheryl murmured as they got out of the car, Zoey regarding the figure of her father in the living room window before shaking her head.

"That would be running away. I've gotta face this, right? I can't let you do all the work for me." She replied with a smile, Cheryl grinning at her.

"My little girl is all grown up." She sighed, Zoey blushing again.

…

…

…

Francis was cold when he woke up the next morning, the arm that had been draped over Zoey's body laying against the floor. There was a feeling in the air that was almost tangible, a sound he couldn't quite identify in his half asleep state, but as soon as he realized what it was, he sat up with wide eyes, fully awake.

Zoey had moved across the room and was crouched by the door with her knees hugged to her chest, still naked and looking more fragile than ever. Her brown hair was limp with filth and sweat, her eyes were closed and her wounds stood in stark contrast to her pale skin, limbs trembling.

"Zoey?" Francis murmured, shifting around to get to his feet. He crouched down beside her quietly, hands reaching out but not quite touching her, fearing that it would have a negative effect. "Hey doll… what's the matter?"

Zoey sort of lunged at him after a few seconds, pressing herself close and burying her face in his shoulder without a word, her breath heavy in her chest. Francis dragged his fingers through her tangled hair with one hand as the other wrapped around her and kept her close, his eyes fluttering closed.

"I'm glad you're here." Zoey whispered in a thick voice. She had obviously been crying, and Francis figured that was the sound he had heard in the first place. "I was scared to wake up and find it was just a bad dream."

"A bad dream, huh? Careful there, Zoey, you might injure my pride." He said with a smirk, the girl pulling back to look at him in disbelief, a laugh escaping her throat.

"The parts with you aren't really the bad parts." She explained. "Well, they are and they aren't. They're not bad because of you, but… they sort of are. If I had woken up and you were gone and all that happened was just a dream, that would be bad. If I woke up and I was alone, I think I might have broken."

"You're not broken, though. And you're not alone." Francis said firmly, putting one hand on the back of her neck. Zoey nodded slowly, lowering her eyes again. "You've got me, alright? And if you need to, you can cry on my shoulder for now… Get it all out before we head back out into Hell."

…

…

…

Zoey remembered she had cried a lot that day, but when she had finished, she felt a lot better. That was the day they came across Louis and Bill, both of them half starved, out of bullets and facing off against a Tank. Zoey remembered she had cried after that fight too, but only after everyone else had gone to sleep.

Part of her hated crying because it reminded her so much of what almost broke her in the first place.

Even now, the anguished sobbing filled her dreams… even now she could still hear it almost as if there was a Witch right outside her window.

Blue eyes fluttering open in the darkness, Zoey strained her ears in the ringing silence for some sign that she had simply been imagining it.

She had gone to bed early tonight, earlier than she usually did, the discussion and subsequent screaming match with her father making her more tired than she had wished for it to. In the end, she wasn't even sure where she stood in the whole situation with Francis, and wasn't sure what would be waiting when she got up the next morning.

A soft whimpering came from outside, from down on the street, and Zoey's entire body tensed, her skin feeling cold. Her heart began to pound hard, the fear so gripping she didn't dare sit up to see what it might have been.

Then the sobbing started once more.

"Oh God." Zoey whispered, gripping her pillow in one hand so hard her knuckles turned white. "This can't be happening."

Slowly and carefully, Zoey pushed herself into a sitting position and slid around to the window, pressing herself up against the wall beside it while she mustered the strength and courage to look out, to see if it was indeed what she thought it was.

The infection was gone, it was gone… it had to be.

But there it was, the eerie red glow from the eyes of a Witch, the infected woman crouching under at street light below, rocking back and forth while her claws dragged at the pavement, sobbing as if she had just lost everything she ever cherished in the world.

Zoey recoiled, moving to curl up in the corner of her bed for a moment with her hand over her eyes.

No one else was awake. No one else was going to deal with it. She wasn't sure anyone around here even knew how. Empty houses on all sides, with only a few people still living on this street, a few people still alive.

Looking out again, Zoey studied the features of the girl in the pool of light, her eyes widening.

Melinda, who lived across the street. Her parents told everyone Mel had died in the riots that spread after the infection broke out.

"Idiots. This is what happens when you try to keep them, try to save them." Zoey hissed, slipping out of bed and hurrying down the hall in her tank top and underwear. She opened the door to her parents room, both of them still sleeping, and hurried to her father's gun safe. He had to have something in there she could use, something that wouldn't make too much noise, something that would allow Zoey to deal with this quickly before anyone got hurt.

Bill had always told her she was a hell of a shot, after all.

Hunting rifle… it would do. Pulling it from the gun safe, Zoey heard her mother speak from behind her.

"Zoey, sweetie, what are you doing?" There was a hint of panic in Cheryl's voice, Zoey turning to meet her gaze levelly. "Why are you taking your father's gun?"

"Because there's something outside mom, something that shouldn't be alive. And from the look of her claws and the blood on the street, I'm not sure Mrs. Wilson will be coming over for tea tomorrow." Zoey spoke as she fit ammo into the gun, taking off the safety and heading for the door of the room again while Cheryl slipped out of bed and put her feet in her slippers with the intent of following.

Zoey's father stirred, looking around in confusion, but he sat bolt upright when he saw Zoey with the gun, letting out a yell with his face pale almost as if he expected her to shoot him with it.

"Come on." Zoey growled. "I've got to get rid of her before someone stumbles by or someone's dumb enough to drive their car down the street."

"Get rid of who?!" Her father cried in alarm. "What are you doing with that, you don't know how to use it!"

"Watch me!" Zoey shouted, hurrying down the hall and into her room again. With her mother's help, she opened the window as quietly as she could, hiding around the side of it out of view when Melinda turned to look at the source of the noise with a soft gasp.

Cheryl was trembling, and when her husband entered the room, he ducked out of the way of the window with a soft curse as well, even more pale than before.

"What the hell? I thought those things were all dead! I thought we dealt with the problem!" He hissed in a stage whisper, Zoey shooting him a dirty look before rounding the window frame ever so slightly and propping the gun up on it. She peered through the scope, waiting for Melinda to stop rocking in place.

Across the street, the house next to Melinda's lit up as someone rose to get ready for work, the sudden light drawing Melinda's gaze.

It was the perfect opportunity…

Zoey wet her lips, blew a strand of hair from her face and squeezed the trigger.

Once, twice, three times in rapid succession, the first bullet making Melinda scream in rage and pain, the second knocking her forward onto the pavement and the third accompanied by the signature death wail that all Witches made when they met their end.

The pale, scrawny body of the girl Zoey had grown up living across the street from fell to the pavement as windows lit up and people began to exit their homes to see what in the world was going on, Zoey's father staring at his daughter in disbelief as she straightened with the gun in her hand.

Cheryl was breathless for a moment, still, then she moved to wrap her arms around Zoey as she breathed her name, hugging her in a protective fashion. Zoey clung to her mother, both of them silent and oblivious to the fact that Zoey's father was still staring.

Down the streets, sirens began to scream as the police hurried to investigate…

...

...

Author's Note!!

And now for some action! Wanted to heat things up a little more in this story... Now Zoey's dad knows she's not some helpless little girl! Should make the days to come a lot more interesting...


	6. Chapter 6

One rough hand slid up the back of her thigh, the water cascading over them, steaming hot feeling every bit as amazing as her skin against his. He pressed her back against the wall of the shower stall, his hot mouth on hers, her breasts pressed against his chest so that he could feel her heart pounding beneath them.

She had gasped to him, panted that they would hear, but he didn't care… let them hear, he told her. They didn't care. And if they did, fuck them, at least he was trying to make the most of the apocalypse.

Fingers tightened on the back of her thigh, drawing her leg up ever so slightly…

Heat, pressure, slowly creeping ecstasy reaching a crescendo…

Then Francis was suddenly being shaken awake, the white face of his roommate Jake appearing above him and making him shake his head to clear away the lingering effects of the dream.

"Fuck man, they found one of those things." Jake gasped. "One of those things! It was living in someone's basement, they were keeping it like a pet or a slave or something, or maybe thinkin' they could keep it alive to bring it back! It got out, tore 'em up. It's on the news man, you gotta see it!"

Francis grunted in reply and shook the man's hand from his shoulder, sitting up and rubbing his face with one hand as he slid out of bed, cursing himself for having so little money he had to live with someone else. Such dreams and memories weren't things he wanted uninterrupted, and Jake had an annoying habit of always knowing when such things were running through his head whether he was asleep or awake.

Shuffling into the living room, Francis leaned against the door frame to watch the TV, the scene flickering between the remains of a Witch covered in a white sheet and the frightened people who lived on the street where it had been found, the blood soaked front entry of the house the Witch had been kept in…

Zoey's house.

The reporter was standing right in front of Zoey's house.

Straightening, Francis moved to the couch and sat down, leaning closer and turning up the sound to hear what the reporter was saying.

"-brave teenager got her father's gun from the safe in his room and put the creature out of her misery before anymore unfortunate death's occurred. Because of her bravery, many people can sleep soundly in their beds in the nights to come. Julie Fairman, Channel 5 news reporting."

Francis stared at the screen for a few seconds in silence, Jake breaking it with a soft curse.

"Can't believe it… I thought they were gone for sure. Hey, where are you going?" Jake asked as Francis stood, moving to grab his shoes, some socks and a jacket. "Dude, it's like 2 in the morning. Where the fuck are you going?!"

"To see my girl." Francis grunted, Jake goggling at him for a moment before spluttering a question in his direction. "The one that shot that vampire."

"Zombie man. Zombie." Jake said a little breathlessly, looking overwhelmed. "You're dating a girl? A teenage girl for that matter? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Cause I didn't ever want her to meet you. You're more of a sleazeball than I am." Francis growled, slipping his jacket on and wrenching his door open.

His bike roared to life a few minutes later, and he peeled out into the street to sail in the direction of Zoey's house.

He didn't care what her father would have to say about this, right now Zoey would need him.

He was her knight in rusty armor, after all, and she would need him tonight to put her head back on her shoulders where it belonged.

After all that had changed in the world, Francis was pretty sure that hadn't.

…

Her father didn't speak after the reporters moved away to interview witnesses that may have information on the girl Zoey had been forced to kill. They stood together for a time, her father regarding her thoughtfully and a few times opening his mouth as if he were about to say something before thinking better of it.

Zoey was the first one to break the silence, sighing shortly before looking up at him.

"You could just admit you were wrong about the whole zombie killing thing and I'd be happy." She remarked, her father blinking at her and frowning a bit. "You don't even have to apologize if it's too hard."

"Why do you make me out to be such a monster?" Her father replied softly, Zoey's cheeks growing warm as she frowned.

"I'm not saying you're a monster. You're a chauvinist and you can never be wrong… You hate apologizing no matter how wrong you are even if you DO admit it. That doesn't make you a monster, it just makes you a man. But you WERE wrong about this, and I think you need to admit it so we can all move on with our lives." She said heatedly, her father shaking his head and looking at the ground.

"I was wrong." He said after a moment, Zoey folding her arms beneath her breasts. "I was wrong about what you are capable of. I was wrong about you holding your own out there in the world. But despite you being able to defend yourself against zombies, you're still my little girl. At least in my eyes."

He gestured to the scene nearby, looking back at her as he continued.

"This was very brave of you. And smart. You thought quickly and did what must have been so terribly hard to do. I'm proud of you for that."

"Proud, but your little girl hasn't grown up yet, huh? All filled out and shooting guns and killing zombies, but still not grown up yet." Zoey remarked, turning away from him to head inside.

"When will anything I say ever be good enough for you?!" he called after her, Zoey stopping briefly before turning to face him and continuing to walk backwards.

"I could ask the same of you, Dad! I could ask the same of you…" She replied.

Cheryl moved to join her husband, an anguished look in her eyes. There was no way her husband would be able to save face after this display… not with all these people watching and the cameras still ever present. This spectacle would be the talk of the town for some time…

But he wouldn't be the one taking center stage. In fact, they were more likely to label him nasty things on the covers of newspapers than praise him for what a good job he was doing as a father, no matter what he said now.

As Cheryl opened her mouth to speak however, there was a roar in the distance, a motorcycle turning onto the street. It was stopped by the blockade at the end of the street, the police men there speaking to whomever was riding it as it stopped.

Cheryl recognized the outline of the person, her hand tightening on her husband's arm.

"You see?" She whispered. "You see how much he cares for her? He must have been driving fast enough to break a few laws just to get to her to see if she's alright. How could you possibly still want to keep them apart?"

Her husband looked at her for a moment in shock, then took in a breath and moved towards the end of the street while Cheryl looked on helplessly. Zoey came rushing back out of the house upon hearing the bike, moving to join her mother as her father continued on, stopping at the blockade to speak to the police, and to Francis.

…

"Gentleman. Thank you for doing such a good job down here…" The policemen turned to face Zoey's father, Francis' eyes widening and his jaw clenching in annoyance.

The arrogant prick probably came to rub this in his face…

"But he's with me." The man continued, looking up to meet Francis' eye. They stared at one another for a long time in silence, then Francis nodded at him, stepping past the police and falling in step with Zoey's father as he walked towards the two women waiting on the street nearby.

"Trying to save face?" Francis growled after a few seconds of silence, Zoey's father tensing ever so slightly.

"Don't make me change my mind about this." The man replied, and Francis grunted. "We had a discussion about you tonight… and I don't like you. I don't think I ever will… but that's my right as a father. I don't think I'll like any man my daughter brings home, least of all a man like you who she met under the direst of circumstances who may or may not have taken advantage of-"

"Stop right there." Francis interrupted, Zoey's father stopping in place and looking at him in a disgruntled manner. "I didn't take advantage of her. And I know you'll never believe me when I say it, but Zoey came to ME. This whole thing started because she came to me. And you better damn well believe that I made sure she was sure about it. About EVERYTHING."

"You're right." Zoey's father muttered. "I don't believe you. And if she told me the same thing, I still wouldn't believe you. I'm not doing this for you… I'm doing this for her. For all I care, you could get devoured by those things, those zombies, and the world would be better off for it."

With that, the man turned and continued walking, Francis staring at his back for a long moment before a flash of brown hair and blue eyes hurtled towards him and Zoey threw herself into his arms.

He wrapped his tattooed arms around her, held her close, and nothing else in the world mattered.


End file.
